


For the Taking

by equalsMCsquare



Category: Gian Galeazzo, Historical RPF, Leonardo DaVinci
Genre: Angst, Historical, M/M, RPF, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:19:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equalsMCsquare/pseuds/equalsMCsquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 1477, Leonardo DaVinci seeks his happiness in an unfamiliar place with the help of a familiar face. A what-if story that could explain a lot, and if you're open-minded to it, is incredibly plausible. What would the beaten down nephew of a Sforza family have in common with a bastard commoner, when he is destined to take the throne?</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Taking

They told him he was mad to leave. But they always told him he was mad. Their preachings had taught him was to think for himself, and to follow his whims as far as they would take him. Nothing but his own desires had brought him to where he was, and he was sure nothing would take him any further.

His humiliation at the hands of the Council of Eight was nothing unbearable, but better to let them think it was. If anything, it aided his career, as potential patrons recognized the underlying truth of the matter. Even the judge and jury had a price; they were men after all. Monetary bribes were for women; males who took them were known for their expectant and needy women at home. Sex was for men.

But here he was, disgusted by the city he had called home for so long. Yes, better they think he left from the shame of it than for any other reason. There were two awaiting him in Milan, and only one of them was Power.

Released at midnight, gone by dawn, just as he had intended. He only carried with him his writings and half of a candle. Let the strays make use of what he left behind, for he would certainly not have use of them anymore. To Milan, and to new beginnings.

***

The contrast between here and his home brought to his face a deeply unpractised and demented smile. Whereas Florence had valued lavishness and he arts, Milan was Spartan in its decorations and empty in its heart. This would suit him just fine. Fine indeed.

He paid the last of his shillings to the cart man with no more regret than a Medici patronizing an artist. Without a pause in his surroundings, he immediately started up the hill. For where else could he find that which he seeks?

He arrived at the doorstep, less wearied than a man of his years should have been. If any who recognized him could see him now, they would gawk most unseemingly at the light spring in his step, particularly in contrast with his surroundings. Three sharp raps on the gates bearing the Sforza seal, and history changed its course for Leonardo.

***

“Grape, per favore.”

Lazily he licked his lips and opened his mouth as the requested fruit was gently placed within, with shuddering fingers. Any who had walked into the room at that moment would have witness an intimacy unlike that seen in many a bedchamber. time is tenderness, and tenderness is time.

Reckless in their self-serving fun, like bachelors on their wedding night. so confident of their positions in the court, and so uncaring of the losses they might sustain, their was no hesitancy in any of their movements. Both would have been hardly recognizable to their kinsmen.

Before the fruit had even been broken, the movement was followed by a swift descent of the lips. Contact was anything but lazy, conveying everything in private in a way that their outward comfort never could.

The second leaned back. He thought of his duchy, and without much longing, of his future. His regent uncle’s timid nephew, Gian Galeazzo knew the only happiness in his future lay with what was directly in front of him. Already it felt like years had passed since his companion had arrived on his very doorsteps. Time between them hardly existed, and any lingering doubts had been swept away at the first hug. The recognition of all that could be shared by the two men.

The first continued to chew in his quiet, ponderous way. He knew no expectations in the way his lover had, but in some ways, their lacking made them all the more imminent. He could not die the bastard child he was born. Happiness was fleeting, he knew, but each moment was a gemstone in the otherwise mundane sands.

After some comfortable silence, for that was all this pair needed, their eyes slowly drifted together. Both were mildly surprised, the force which drew them there almost unnoticeable. But a force it was, and who were they to deny its pull.

The elder stood up first, and extended his hand downwards. In the age old show of friendship, the other took his hand, and rose to his feet. The silent eye contact seemed unbreakable in its promise of imminent breakage. Everything was topsy turvy and paradoxical when these two met.

If we regard the accomplishments of Leonardo as phenomenal even in their subdued unhappy state, imagine if such a union would have been peaceable by the church. What might he have produced then? Such questions are lost to the bitterness of history and its power to hate. What we owe them is the benefit of the doubt, the belief that more could come from a more nurturing environment.

Instead, we are left to imagine what could have been, and what might have been, for any truths have been rubbed out of the history books by those unwilling to see a great man’s reputation sullied by something they see as ungreat. An artist was a man of desire and heart, not a monk.

The royal burgundy of the furnishings served to camouflage Gian in his palace, but at this instant, the most powerful man in the room was the one without a penny in his pocket, and a beggar’s garb on his back. He trailed slightly behind his partner, content to give him the lead. Their stoic steps to the bedchamber hid what bubbled underneath it all.

With the door firmly shut behind them, the second man soon found himself intensely grateful for it’s sturdy support. Fire, fire, everywhere. Intoxicating beyond compare to two men who had almost lost hope in the existence of passion like this. Nothing was beyond reach, because everything was right here, willing and compliant for their taking.


End file.
